


Sin

by Keystoffees



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom
Genre: DJBatch, Dancing, F/M, Nine Inch Nails, Touching, sweaty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:18:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1460641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keystoffees/pseuds/Keystoffees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Benedict's dancing and the idea of him doing a DJ set. </p><p>Also inspired by Sin by Nine Inch Nails :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sin

'You give me the reason  
You give me control  
I gave you my purity  
My purity you stole'

Two and a quarter hours he'd been up there. Headphones around his neck, a look of utter concentration on his face as he crouched over the screen. A glass of whisky on ice next to him, never empty because someone replaced it as soon as he drained it. His hair was curling in the humid air and his cheeks were flushed, highlighted by the strobe light which fluttered every so often, slowing everything down to a dream-like haze.

He looked over at me frequently. I moved around, chatting to the people I knew, dancing sociably with those I didn't, but I felt his gaze on me, checking I was ok. I occasionally wandered over to the booth and leant on the edge, as I'd done many times before, except this time the DJ bent to give me a sweaty kiss on the lips and shouted in my ear to ask if I was enjoying myself. 

He'd been asked to do this set as a favour to a friend, and he'd taken it extremely seriously. I knew he'd planned the order of the tracks carefully and he wanted people to love the music. He'd done a brilliant job, too. I'd danced the whole night, lost in the music and the whisky sours I had been drinking, my feet throbbing and my knees hurting from jumping up and down. 

He set up the last few tracks on the computer and leaned in to issue instructions to a friend in the DJ booth, grinning at me as I swayed and wiggled from the dance floor. I could see his white t shirt was soaked through with sweat, sticking to his back and chest as he grabbed his drink and jumped down to weave through the crowd towards me. 

He'd saved my favourites until the end, when he knew he could dance with me. As the song started, he hooked a hand around my waist and pulled me close, swiping a kiss across my lips as I continued to dance. We made brief eye contact and I grinned at him for including this one. He knew how it made me feel.

We quickly found a rhythm together, his hands occasionally making fleeting contact with my body, my arms in the air as I threw my head back and screamed the lyrics into the warm air. My hair sticking to my face, sweat running down my legs, the smell of dry ice and sickly sweet drinks; this didn't happen often enough.

He grabbed at me, pulling me towards him with hot hands, hooded eyes suddenly serious, and as I slowed my movements slightly, but not completely, he brought his lips to the side of my face and licked at the damp skin, flicking his tongue expertly, tasting the sweat. 

As he leaned in further, I threw my arms around his neck and ground my hips into him, still moving with the music, the words I knew so well tumbling from my lips. 

Hands still on my hips, he rumbled into my ear, telling me in expletives exactly what he was going to do to me as soon as we left the club. I groaned and found his mouth with my own, crashing together, a clumsy mess of wet lips, tongues and teeth. His hands snaked around to my ass and he pawed at me greedily, his hard cock pressed into my stomach as I moved against him.

As the song finished, he released me and put his hands somewhere respectable, a knowing press of his fingers on my arms a secret reminder of his promises. I leant up and gave him another kiss before he left my side again to chat with his friend.

Once the thank yous, back slaps and hugs had been dispensed with, he found me again, still dancing, trying to distract myself from the feelings he had so expertly initiated. As the harsh lights of the club flickered on, I regretted staying so long. Wishing, as usual, that I'd sat down for longer, that I hadn't let myself get quite so dishevelled and that I'd drunk more water. 

He draped an arm over my shoulder, grabbing his leather jacket and his flat cap for disguise. It didn't work very often anymore and people knew he had been at this club, so it was a miracle when we managed to get to his car without having to stop for autographs. Maybe everyone else just wanted to get home too, I wondered. 

Sliding on to the cool leather seats, he spoke politely to his driver, exchanging his usual pleasantries and charm, but once we were moving he turned to focus on me. 

Running a hand up my leg, he squeezed the inside of my thigh, his long fingers curling over my skin, encouraging me to open my legs in response. 

I moved to try to put a hand on the back of his neck, desperate once more for a kiss, a taste of his lips with their tell-tale whisky and nicotine, but he stopped me, grasping my wrist with his free hand and holding it still. I looked at him, his eyes shining, as the streetlights flashed over the inside of the car, and bit my lip. 

He shook his head and moved the hand between my legs again, inching it slowly towards me. He turned to my hand, which was next to his face, and held tightly on to my wrist as he took my index finger into his mouth and sucked hard, flicking his tongue across the end of it. I gasped at the feeling which shot straight down to my centre and made me yearn for his hand to complete its journey. 

As I was about to lose myself again, this time in the anticipation of his touch on me, there, he stopped. Removing his hand and releasing my finger from his mouth, he chuckled and pulled away from me. I blinked and looked around as I realised we were pulling up outside his house. 

He jumped out of the car, holding the door for me and shaking hands with the driver, who seemed oblivious. I smiled, still feeling uncomfortable with the idea of a driver, resisting the urge to offer a large tip. 

We stumbled together up the steps in silence and he unlocked the door while I shrugged out of my coat, dropping it as soon as I set foot on the hardwood floor. I kicked off my shoes as he led me to the bedroom, his hand wrapped tightly around my wrist again, the other unbuckling his belt.


End file.
